


Like Drinking Salt Water

by sophia_sol



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Barista, Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexuality, Friendship, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophia_sol/pseuds/sophia_sol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ryan!" Brendon gets up from the table at Starbucks where he's been lurking and waiting and distractedly watching the cute barista dude. He bounds over to Ryan, and attacks him with a hug. "I haven't seen you for <em>ages</em>!" (A college AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Drinking Salt Water

**Author's Note:**

> Betas are wonderful magical beings of whom I could sing praises forever, or at least a very long time. In this case, kiki_eng was the marvelous person who helped make this fic so much better than it would have otherwise been. Thank you!

"Ryan!" Brendon gets up from the table at Starbucks where he's been lurking and waiting and distractedly watching the cute barista dude. He bounds over to Ryan, and attacks him with a hug. "I haven't seen you for _ages_!"

He hugs Brendon back. "I've been busy."

"I got your coffee already," Brendon says, dragging him over to the table.

He hadn't _planned_ on buying Ryan's coffee, but he hadn't been able to resist a reason to talk to the barista a little bit longer. He just looked so -- he just seemed so _nice_. Brendon had kind of stumbled over his words a lot because he was distracted by watching the barista's sure and easy movements, but the barista had just smiled this real, genuine smile at him, and Brendon had fallen a little bit in love with that smile.

"Awesome." Ryan sits down and picks up his cup, cradling it in his hands and almost ending up with the end of a scarf in the coffee. He's wearing about fifteen thousand scarves, which Brendon's pretty sure didn't used to be Ryan's thing.

"What's up?" Brendon asks, because Ryan never tells him anything even though Brendon texts him all the time. When Ryan casually mentions that he and Spencer are thinking of starting a new band, though they're not sure who with yet, Brendon is indignant, because how did he not know about this already? He needs to know these things so he can properly plot how to get himself involved.

"This is why texts are _no substitute_ for real life," he says, sighing exaggeratedly and pouting at Ryan. "You're crap at saying anything important!"

"Whatever," Ryan says serenely. "I've just had so much to do, you know?"

"And no time for your friends, I see how it is. You're a terrible person, Ryan Ross."

"My guitar is a jealous girlfriend, what can I say?"

"This sounds like an abusive relationship. Do I need to go have a serious talk with your guitar?"

Ryan laughs. "Ooh, Brendon trying to be threatening. I'd love to see that."

"Wouldn't you just," Brendon says, waggling his eyebrows. "Your guitar would run crying back to its mommy -- huh. What _would_ a guitar's mother be?"

"I don't know," Ryan says. He takes a sip of his coffee, and hums in appreciation. "Mmmm, _caffeine_."

"Maybe a tree? Guitars are made of wood, right? But then there's all that metal and stuff."

"Uh huh," Ryan says, but it's clear he's distracted by his coffee and not paying a bit of attention to what Brendon's saying.

It doesn't matter, anyways. Brendon watches the barista out of the corner of his eye as he bestows that amazing smile on a harassed-looking dad with two small kids in tow. Brendon hopes it makes the dad's day a little bit better and definitely does not let himself wish he was the recipient of the smile, and drinks from his own coffee, laden down with sugar and cream and delicious syrupy flavouring. It tastes best that way, even if Ryan disagrees.

Ryan puts down his coffee cup and clears his throat, and Brendon snaps his attention back. "So," Ryan says. "I was a little surprised to get that text on Wednesday."

"Uh," Brendon says. He looks down. "Sorry for springing it on you like that."

Ryan gives him a look. "Shut up, it's fine," he says, and pauses. "But I guess I always kind of thought you were like me."

"Like what?" Brendon's a little confused and not afraid to admit it. Ryan's good at not making sense but usually it's because he's gotten all metaphorical or is using weird vocabulary, not because he's just not explaining things.

Ryan shrugs. "Like…I don't know if there's a word for it or anything, but I'm just -- not interested, you know? Not in anybody. I don't talk about it much, because people don't understand, but whatever."

"That's…what, really? Not anybody ever?" Brendon can't keep himself from saying, because he does not get that _at all_ , and then he feels awful when Ryan's face goes blank. "Sorry."

"Yeah, really. This is why I don't tell people." Ryan sighs, and Brendon feels even worse.

Tentatively he says, "No, but -- I've seen you looking. That chick at that concert Spencer dragged us to -- the drummer? You totally thought she was hot."

"Sure," Ryan says, a finger tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "She was awesome. I liked watching her. That doesn't mean I want to do anything about it. I just liked looking at her. Doesn't mean anything more than, I dunno, admiring awesome clothes or an awesome poem or something." He sighs again. "So you're not like me, you're just gay."

"Er," says Brendon, thrown from his guilty feelings. "Right." Brendon's never heard being gay characterized as "just" before.

Ryan grins suddenly, and Brendon is reminded that sometimes he can be _evil_. "Okay then, so _talk_. Got a boyfriend? Got your eye on anyone?"

"Ahaha, no, I wish," says Brendon. He carefully does not glance over at the barista, who's currently engaged in cleaning one of the complicated-looking machines, nonchalantly poking pieces of metal into things for purposes that probably aren't diabolical. The barista's looking in a direction that might be construed as towards Brendon, but that's likely just Brendon's wishful thinking.

"No hot guys in any of your classes?" Ryan continues, and Brendon reminds himself that he's talking to Ryan right now. "No deep unrequited love for a friend? No illicit affair with a silver fox of a professor?

"In your dreams, Ryan."

Ryan quirks an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know," he says, and sips his coffee.

Laughing, Brendon admits, "Okay, there are some pretty hot guys."

"Ooh." Ryan leans forward, eyes wide in exaggerated -- and slightly worrisome -- interest.

"Stop that." Brendon tugs at one of Ryan's scarves, and Ryan sits back, though he's still looking way too interested. "Okay, there's this guy, Kit, right? He's in, like, _half_ of my classes, and he sings bass and his voice... it makes me swoon. But I'd be swooning even without the voice, because _damn_ he has a great body."

"Uh _huh_. So? You going to do anything about it?"

"God, no." Brendon shakes his head vehemently. "He's got a girlfriend."

"And you don't want a kinky threesome?" Ryan smiles sweetly over his coffee cup.

"You do remember the 'I'm gay' thing, right? Maybe if he had a _boyfriend_ I'd be up for the kinky threesome, but as it is…." Brendon trails off. They've been having this whole conversation with both of them in full knowledge of the fact that Brendon's gay. But this -- this is the first time he's admitted out loud he's gay, ever, and here he is talking about kinky threesomes when he's never even _kissed_ anyone. Well, anyone that counted anyways, because that disastrous kiss with Lisa in seventh grade totally didn't count.

He says this out loud, which is a mistake, because Ryan grins his evil grin again. "Well, clearly you need to find yourself someone to practice with."

Brendon groans. "Easy for you to say," he says, because if nobody's been interested in kissing Brendon in the six years since Lisa, it says something about Brendon's relative attractiveness. " _You'd_ have no trouble finding practice if you wanted; you're seriously hot."

Ryan's grin widens. "Why, thanks for noticing," he says. "Good to know my effort pays off. But lovely as it is to talk about me, we were talking about _you_."

"No, no, I am very happy to talk about you when it means we are not talking about my lamentable lack of experience!" Brendon says brightly, but he knows it's not going to work.

Ryan looks at him thoughtfully. "Hmmm," he says. "You think the barista's hot."

Brendon nods immediately, because he _does_ , even if he's not sure how Ryan knows this, and then his thoughts catch up to where Ryan's clearly going with it. "Oh no you don't. Ryan. Ryan!"

It's too late. Ryan's swung out of his chair and walked straight up to counter. Brendon tumbles out of his own seat to go after him, and arrives at the counter just as Ryan's sizing up the barista and saying, over-cheerful, "Hello!"

"Don't listen to a word he says," Brendon says quickly. "Ryan, you're a horrible person and I don't know you."

The barista smiles, amused and relaxed. "Oh, but now you've got me all curious."

"What are your thoughts about kissing boys?" Ryan says without preamble, holding Brendon in place despite Brendon's attempts to drag him away, and Brendon slaps a hand over Ryan's mouth too slowly to stem the words.

The barista's smile widens. "Depends on the boy, I'd say."

Brendon has to pull his hand away from Ryan's mouth, then, because he bites it. "Ouch! Fuck you!"

"That's what you get for putting your hand where it doesn't belong," he tells Brendon, and turns back to the barista. "Brendon here wants to practice kissing and he thinks you're cute. Your thoughts?"

" _Ryan_ ," Brendon moans, and resumes his efforts to drag Ryan away. It still doesn't work. Ryan's a skinny-ass dude but he's _strong_.

"My thoughts," the barista says, looking at Brendon. He looks like he's finding this pretty funny, and Brendon just hopes desperately it doesn't mean he finds _Brendon_ funny, in a laughing-at kind of way.

"I think," the barista continues, "that I'm about due to take my break and I'd be happy to do whatever Brendon wants." He smiles his wonderful smile right at Brendon, and his eyes crinkle adorably, and Brendon kind of wants to do all sorts of unspeakable things to him.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck. Brendon stares at Ryan wide-eyed and wordless and Ryan just pokes him in the forehead. "I'll be reading my book," Ryan says, producing a paperback out of one of his many pockets, and leaves Brendon alone at the counter.

Brendon shifts his panicked gaze to the still-smiling barista.

"Maybe we should start this properly," the barista says. "Hi, I'm Jon. Nice to meet you."

"You too," Brendon manages to say. "Um."

"Hey, no worries," says Jon, and his voice must be kind of magical because the calm surety of it actually makes Brendon feel better. "If your friend's suggestion isn't something you're into, then that's cool too. But you're hot and I bet making out with you would be amazing. So." He spreads his arms. "Up to you."

Brendon's brain kind of trips over the bit where Jon called him hot. But he clearly says something in response, because Jon smiles at Brendon again, and says, "Awesome!"

This is how Brendon finds himself in the alleyway behind Starbucks, pressed against the wall, another dude's tongue in his mouth. He would reflect on how weird it is, but he's too busy finding it all _insanely hot_.

He can't help but moan into Jon's mouth and pull Jon closer to him, because this is so much better than he expected kissing to be. Lisa in seventh grade _definitely_ didn't count, he thinks distantly, and then wonders why the hell he's thinking about Lisa when he could be thinking of Jon's lean body up against his own, Jon's hands pushing against his shoulders and fingers digging in, Jon's mouth on his.

It's maybe a little embarrassing, the noises Brendon finds himself making, but fuck, it feels so good. They kiss for a long time, Jon's mouth moving skilfully over his and Brendon figuring out more and more what to do to Jon to pull desperate groans out of his throat too. It's _awesome_ , Brendon thinks; he could totally do this forever, and when eventually Jon pulls away, Brendon actually whimpers.

Jon takes a step back and says, breathlessly, "Sorry, dude, I gotta." He stops, and visibly pulls himself together. "They're kind of draconian about break lengths or I'd still be kissing you. For the record, you're an awesome kisser and I'd make out with you any time." He takes Brendon's hand and pulls him gently away from the wall; Brendon's knees are feeling a bit rubbery, but he stands okay.

"Your coffee's probably cold by now," Jon says as they walk back into the Starbucks. "Replacement's on me."

"Thanks," says Brendon.

Jon smiles widely. "You're very welcome. And I mean it, any time."

"Uh," says Brendon.

Jon puts his hairnet and dorky little visor on and washes his hands. "Same as before?" he asks, and when Brendon nods, Jon grabs a cup and starts working his magic on the machines. Half a minute later Brendon's taking the drink and a napkin with Jon's number on it, a little disbelieving. Jon smiles cheerily and waves Brendon back over to the table where Ryan's sitting.

Brendon sits down. He very carefully does not look at Ryan, but it doesn't help; Ryan has put down his book and is radiating smug satisfaction like a, like a radioactive thing radiates radioactivity -- okay, so Brendon's brain isn't entirely online again yet maybe.

"Told you," Ryan says, and Brendon thunks his head on the table, narrowly missing Ryan's book. Ryan just takes the opportunity to snag the napkin away from him. "Ooh, you got his _number_." He sounds entirely too delighted.

"Give," Brendon raises his head from the table to say, holding out one hand demandingly. Ryan twitches it just out of Brendon's reach, and keeps it away even when Brendon lunges for it, laughing at Brendon, the fucker.

Brendon takes Ryan's book hostage in retaliation. Ryan doesn't react until Brendon takes hold of a single page and says, "I'll start tearing it apart," at which point Ryan is all too happy to trade.

Hah.

Once more in possession of his prize, Brendon digs his phone out of his pocket and carefully types Jon's number in. He glances back at the counter to find that Jon is watching him, a pleased smile on his face, and Brendon blushes and looks back at his phone.

He's definitely going to call.


End file.
